


Blood Bank

by SaltyWriter



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Adoption, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Cancer, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Crossdressing, Dad Eren Yeager, Dad Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Dominant Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Eren Yeager Dies, First Dates, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Levi Is Bad At Feelings, M/M, Major Illness, Overdosing, Plot Twists, Sad Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending, Smut, Submissive Eren Yeager, Widowed, Young Eren Yeager
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:13:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9232385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltyWriter/pseuds/SaltyWriter
Summary: The death of a lovely brunet boy, fallen ill and in love all at once.After Eren's death, Levi learns to cope, meanwhile adopting a 7 year old mute son, identical to his long beloved. He starts over, as Dad, and learns to let go.(Major Angst. Eren dies, and Levi suffers bad. Ending can be happy or sad, depends on how you interpret it!)





	1. Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Oiia! This was actually a lovely prompt from an anon on Tumblr, but after much attention I've decided to continue the story. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! I update nearly every day, and the current set amount of chapters may not be the end. We'll have to see how it plays out.

March 12th, 2004

You’re beautiful, you know? I know I didn’t say it to your face at the time, but it was pretty much one of those giant red signs that go off in your head, lit by rainbows because _goddamn_ , when did I become so gay? I didn’t think I was anything but straight, but you - fuck, what is wrong with me? You’re the kind of beauty to make people question their sexuality. You’re a fucking brat, you know that? I was bitter, because you waltzed in with such a painfully oblivious confidence, unknown to how many eyes fell on you. It’s funny, because we met at a blood bank. People were being saved, but by more than blood, that day.

And you had the nerve to sit beside _me_ , like you didn’t already make my whole world turn upside down. Fuck you, Yaeger. Fuck you.

We didn’t talk too long - you were uncomfortable, probably debating with yourself why you would sit with the stone cold silent man of all people. Was it because I looked lonely? Did it have to do with how I looked at you when you came through the door, soaked from the snow outside and your cute little nose lit like a fucking red light? Funny, because I don’t even remember how I looked at you. If it was like anyone else’s, it would have been embarrassing. Like those “comedic” double takes.

But none the less, the first time I saw you, I was conflicted. I thought you were attractive - I liked how you lit up the waiting room. I liked your cute lopsided smile. I don’t say these things out loud, you always wondered why I’m so bland, but it’s because if I changed now you would wonder if I was dying of some kind of disease.

The first day I met you, I guess I was already planning our marriage, huh? I almost laughed when I stepped out of the doctor’s office, and dug in my pocket to find my phone. I almost missed the little slip of paper, but it was there. If you hadn’t had given me your number, believing that face I wore was really how I felt, what would have happened? I never would have fallen for you as deeply. I never would have met a person like you, Eren.

 

**May 21st, 2004**

I stood in front of the restaurant, and wondered to myself; _What idiot would prefer a restaurant over tickets to their favorite music artist’s live performance?_ I had asked you to choose, but like an absent minded dork you flew for the least costly choice. Since when were brats like you so thoughtful, and since when did you start caring about money? You were, what, 19? You were still a teen, I wouldn’t have been pushed for money if you had chose the other one. But you demanded I take you to a restaurant for our first date. We hadn’t kissed, I hadn’t told you how I felt, but we did poke at the idea of dating for a long time. Perhaps with a football field long pole, but it was still poking regardless.

I remember how nice the restaurant was. I didn’t want to disappoint you, and besides, I wanted to figure out how to even out the fact that you chose a restaurant over my much better choice of driving to a different state for a whole day to see Coldplay. You’re an idiot you know? You like traditional too much.

I had gone in, sat for nearly fifteen minutes, and assumed you had just got trapped in traffic. Thirty minutes. The waiter began to look at me in sympathy. That guy was ugly too, I hated how his face looked when he was sad for someone else, how twisted it seemed. An hour. Two. Was that desperate? Of course it was.

Needless to say, you never came. Now that I look on it, it was funny. I was blissfully unaware that you were at a hospital then, because your spleen was collapsing.

That’s fine. Sometimes it’s good to be unaware. I would have tried to drive out to you, too, but I didn’t know anything about your situation, only that you had problems sometimes. I didn’t think you meant life threatening situations. I thought you meant “occasional need to go to the doctor because my stomach felt weird” kind of problems. I wish you had told me sooner, Eren.

 

**July 2nd, 2004**

We tried again. We went to a concert this time, and instead of that fervent disapproval you gave me when I shoved you into my truck, you just smiled warily and accepted it. Was something wrong? At the moment, I didn’t think too hard about it. I wanted to go on a date with you, experience something you loved. This time we went to Seattle, and I won’t lie, I’d sincerely had believed your taste in music was going to suck pretty bad. You seem like a pop kid, Eren.

I loved the way the green-blue stage lights lit your face, like a gorgeous Aurora, like an ocean. Your eyes were closed, and you swayed, letting the music fill your soul and touch your body. I wanted to touch you too, caress your cheekbones, brush my fingertips over your eyelashes. I might have hated that Paradise song if I had not seen how moved you were by it. I might not have ever listened to it, or thought of you and cried everytime I heard it.

Did you want to go to paradise, Eren? You could have gone with me.

When it was over, you took my hand and brought me all through Seattle. Summer in Seattle is nice - the nights are warm, and the city is like fireflies on the horizon, hunting for a place to sleep in the night. We shopped, we laughed, you made a joke about my boss, Eyebrows. _I swear, his eyebrows could eat me_ , and I just smiled because _Hell yeah they could_. That’s why I never let my guard down around Captain America.

 

**July 3rd, 2004**

I took you home at nearly 4 in the morning. You knew Mikasa, your witch sister, would be furious, and I promised to snap her neck for you. You defended her lividly, and I thought it funny. I met her once, and she gave me a ferocious death glare, like a lioness fending off hunters from her cub. You didn’t like being treated like a kid. You were a _man_ now, right? Remember how I snorted when you said that? It wasn’t because it was laughable, but because I’d realized how much I loved you, a man. Homosexuality is something not as widely accepted as it should be. But I wanted you, not another girl. You were my world, not Hanji or Petra. We couldn’t choose who we wanted to love, right?

But that didn’t stop me when I asked if you wanted to stop in a field. We laid beside each other on the hood of my truck. I liked how the concert made you look, but the stars made you look so much younger and softer. You looked like a tired boy, a haunted child. I loved that, made you seem edgy. I didn’t worry about that then, I just wanted to be near you. We kissed for the first time on the hood of my truck. Your fingers carded through my hair, your hot breath against my neck, your being soaked up by mine. We felt that spark, and we let it burn in that moment. I remember how you rolled me over, and the truck shifted a little, and then you were leaning down. I pulled you down harder. I think I lost a piece of myself in you, Eren. You tasted like fucking hotdogs. Why did I buy you a hotdog? Why not some cotton candy? But the texture alone made fire and steam shoot up my spine. You felt so good, then and there.

But then you pulled away, your bronze cheeks barely lit a light pink, and I reached up and brushed feathery chocolate hair from your eyes. I loved seeing them. You panted, but I was nearly unfazed. At the moment, I had no idea that was your first kiss. Later I would be proud I was the one you chose.

 

**November 8th, 2004**

I was worried a little from the beginning, you know? I didn’t want to ask you outright, or be that guy to make assumptions. I loved you, at that point, more than the sun loved the sea. They caressed every night, and the sea would bleed the farther away the sky got, and that may have been how I felt.

The hospital visits began to grow more frequent. You kept saying it was nothing, and I listened to you. I didn’t want to intrude. It took you disappearing for two weeks for me to need to know, and I reached out to your sister, who told me with, might I say regret, that you were in the hospital. To be honest, I was hopping around the living room with my jeans half on, my hair a damn mess, cigarette butts on the floor. I never do that, but I was so _terrified_ and at that moment the cleanliness didn’t matter anymore. The ride was a nightmare. I forgot how hard it was to drive when your hands shook, and your heart was pounding. Two weeks I didn’t know where you were, and I had almost accepted you didn’t want to see me. But there you were when I pushed open the door, wide awake, buried in sterilization and tubes. You told me your condition. It wasn’t terminal - you could live if you took care of yourself, and that was good enough for me. I would take care of you if you didn’t want to.

You remember how I climbed on the bed with you? You freaked out, whining about how _only patients should be allowed on the beds_! But when I took you in my arms, you stopped blabbering almost instantly. You reached out and wrapped your arms timidly around me, and hid your face in my shoulders. The tubes curled and tangled around our bodies, but right then I was happy to be with you.

It wasn’t terminal.

 

**September 15th, 2005**

Your illness was a worthy opponent, Eren. You fought tooth and nail, and every time you found yourself falling back or working too hard, I was there to hold you and tell you _I swear it’ll be okay_. Maybe it wasn’t at the time, but we’d try. We had been together for an entire year, we could survive, and that was all we needed.

I hadn’t been too worried about making love with you, Eren. I thought about it, of course - I’m a guy, I have natural urges. Long ago the whole homosexual thing passed, because our love wasn’t labeled. We were Levi and Eren, Eren and Levi. We weren’t ever “two gay guys”. Hell, I still call myself straight to this day, but you’re mine. And I’m yours. It doesn’t matter what kind of body I find attractive. You are beautiful.

Even if I didn’t think about it often, I wanted it. I never pushed you, or asked you. If we got heated, if we reached that hot edge, you would push me away and I never asked why, because goddammit I loved you and you didn’t need a reason to not be ready.

You are a brat, though, you know? You like to throw surprises at me. I had shrugged my coat off, brushed the snowflakes out of my hair. The house was warm, but the lights were oddly dim. You don’t dim the lights unless you’re having a migraine or you don’t feel well. So, the oblivious boyfriend in me steered me to the kitchen, and I made you some hot cocoa and got a warm wet towel. I remember being turned around when I opened the door, using my heel to kick it open, nearly dropping the drink in the process.

Did I mention how beautiful you are?

I didn’t ask for this, either. I didn’t ever mention sex with you in a serious way, but there you were, gracing the laciest thigh highs on your legs, a silky black ribbon tied around that place just beneath your chest. You became worried in mere seconds that I didn’t like it, because a _look_ came across my face. Probably an expression you’d never seen before from me, either, or you would have known.

I set the chocolate down, then the towel. I shed my shirt first, unbuttoning it one by one and tossing it onto the dresser. All the while I made my way to the bed. It was adorable how wide your eyes were. Did you expect me to want it?

I was your first time. You moaned so hotly, each one drawn out and almost like a beg for me. I was entranced, loving the look in your eyes, the tears like small crystals on your cheeks. It had hurt at first, but I went slow just for you. Your fingers grabbed at me, our bodies entwined, your legs wrapped around the small of my back. Every time I entered you your face would become weak, you would say my name in a soft, breathless whisper.

So many people say that when you have sex with someone, you love them a little more. That was wrong. No, I have always loved you too much to imagine, the only difference is I finally got to show you.

 

**December 25th, 2005**

Tis the season to be jolly, huh? I always hated my birthday, but since you were living with me I had to suck it up. I had a special gift for you - it wouldn’t be long before we would reach our second year mark. Of course I was worried you would say no - but I would dream to see my diamond on your finger.

It went as it usually did. We had made love the night before, so when I woke up you were in the kitchen wearing a dress shirt far too big for you. I wondered where you got it from. I set my hands on your waist and kissed your neck, listening to you ramble on about a dream. I couldn’t wait to ask you, Eren. I had planned it for a while, and I wanted it to be today. Your favorite holiday. We’d be even then - you would stop buying me two gifts then. Because I would have to pamper you too, right? It’d be _our_ day.

The nervous fidgeting got worse. I ran my finger through my hair a lot more. You noticed, I know you did, but I didn’t care. You would know why. When the time came, we sat down together after going to see your sister and best friend, and we exchanged our own gifts. You aren’t the best with gifts, but I assume that’s how you balance out how good of a gift your mere existence is. You got me that stupid selfie we took on our first date framed. I snorted at it, and your smile just got bigger. You brat. I liked it. It would become more important to me later, but for then, it was just a sweet picture.

At that time, I got up at last. I was a little stiff when I got on one knee. I remember feeling happiness flood every little inch of my heart. I asked you to marry me, and you shot up, flung your arms around my neck and nearly knocked me down, squealing yes over and over. I chuckled, and we fell over into the carpet, me running my fingers through your hair, you leaving joyful tears smeared across my shirt. I was so happy.

 

**March 3rd, 2006**

It didn’t last long. I woke up one morning and your breath was too shallow. Had I hurt you the night before? Regardless, I was terrified when I ran my fingers up and down your body and found a boil. Shit! Shit, shit, shit! I threw myself out of the bed, and in moments I was hauling you outside bridal style into my car. My hands were shaking again. Your ocean eyes didn’t open, and your eyelashes didn’t flutter once.

I hated departing with you at the hospital. Your platelets were low, and your lymph nodes swollen bad. I was in shock.

 

**March 5th, 2006**

This was the day we were supposed to get married.

 

**March 9th, 2006**

We got married in the hospital. You wanted to, even begged for it. So, we did - you were so pale, and yet always beautiful, Eren. You couldn’t even stand. You smiled the whole time, and told me how much you wanted to live the rest of your life with me. White roses, white floors, white walls. You wanted to be my husband, even if you have to do it in a hospital. Waiting was too much, you said. White gown, white fingers, white lips. On our wedding day, I couldn’t kiss your lips, so I kissed your knuckle instead. You were my husband, Eren. I was yours.

 

**March 10th, 2006**

You died.

 

**May 12th, 2007**

I visited your grave today.

You know, at first I asked, _why_? Why did you have to go? I guess I’m your widow, right? I’m fine with that. At least I’m _your_ widow. There’s flowers blooming around your grave, too - the sun is making my wedding ring glint. The last thing I said to you before you died was, _you’ll be sure to stay alive so you can be my housewife, right_? Well, I figured out why.

Eren, I know you’re under all that grass and dirt. I know you’re probably enjoying your rest, wherever you are in spirit, and I want to visit you again one day. Maybe it can be in a blood bank, at a restaurant, at a hospital, on the hood of my car. I don’t care where.

Isn’t it funny that we met at a blood bank? Where lives are saved? You were there to find a blood donor, right? They chose me. I’m sorry my blood wasn’t able to save you, Eren.

But maybe, in a way I did save you. Did you feel warm with me? Did you feel happy with me? That’s good.

Hey, Eren.

_I love you._


	2. Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi makes some life choices after Eren's death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah... I couldn't help it, Levi's pain was so real to me and I needed to see how it would play out for him!!!! ARGH

**October 27th 2009**

Yeah. It's cold. Pretty fucking cold.

Its been a long time, huh? You were pretty alive to me not long ago, Eren. I've taken a liking to writing to you when I don't feel right. I've started talking to a therapist recently, and this old lady told me to tell you how much I miss you through my writing. I don't technically do it all by hand writing it, I carry my phone around with me a lot more now so I can talk to you in the notes. I'm running out of space - I probably need to get an SD card soon.

It's still pretty hard. I know you're somewhere - maybe not on Earth, or anywhere near me for that matter, but I sure as hell hope you know how I'm feeling.

I became an alcoholic not long after you died. Maybe what, just last year? My last entry was in 2007, right? Pretty long time ago, if you think about it, long enough to need rehab twice, to have Erwin break down my apartment door and drag me to the hospital because I was passed out and too much of my blood had become alcohol. The same blood I lent to you, Eren.

Eren, I really hate October.

You know why, right? It was the month right after you and I first had sex. You became a horny brat that whole month, wanting to learn stupid shit like it was the kinkiest alphabet on the planet. I get flashbacks. For a moment, I swear your fingers really are there, and I'm not imagining it.

When I'm drunk, I'm much more likely to get those flashbacks. Sometimes they're heated and sexual, other times they're just _you_ , in all your beautiful glory. I imagine you're singing me to sleep with a delicate lullaby, or brushing hair from my face. I imagine I can still hear your tinkling laugh if I listen hard enough. It hurts, not having you. It hurts even more imagining I still did.

Do you know how many nights I've stayed up, pacing my bedroom, smashing memories and ripping sheets, trying to rid these damn _thoughts_ from my head, get rid of that everlasting love I have for you? Do you know how defeated I am when I finally go stiff, and slump onto the torn bedsheets, and simply stare at the ceiling? In moments like those, all that's left to do is let the tears drip, and wait for the hole in my heart to stop throbbing so very restlessly.

I became detached, without you. I didn't really leave the house. I got fired, eventually, and had to find another job, but it was hard. I almost got evicted, twice, but I fought desperately, thinking to myself, _I can't let Eren see me like this_.

It wasn't like that, Eren. I spun intricate webs about how we would have lived our lives together. You had told me you wanted to live the rest of yours with me, and in a way we did. I had to wake up in a dead silent hospital room with your chest no longer rising or your heart no longer beating, but goddamn did you spend the rest of that heart beat right there beside me. Was the last thing you saw my face, in the dim hospital light?

I want to hold you again. I want to kiss your tears away when your headaches are too bad to stand, or tell you one more time, I _swear it'll be fine_. I wish you were here, but then again, so does Mikasa. So does Armin, Erwin, Hange, Olou, Petra, Horseface, Baldie, Ymir, Krista, Freckles. They all miss you so much, because you were such a young and wild spirit, Eren. You made so many people fall so in love with you, and I was only one of them. The only difference between them and I is I haven't gotten over you yet - I suffer every day.

I can't get out of bed because every time I wake up, the place where you slept - where the morning light always touched first - is always empty. What reason is there? Why should I get up if it's not to force you to shower, or make us cocoa, or wash the dishes and cook you something to eat?

The alcohol makes my blood sing.

Almost as loud as you, when you sing in the shower to piss me off, and instead all I can do is laugh, because I can tell you're having a fucking blast on there.

The alcohol makes me lose my mind.

Almost like you, when you say stupid shit like I won't survive or I'm already dead. Because no, no you're not, Eren. You're still alive in me. Conscious or unconscious, sober or drunk.

The alcohol makes me happy.

Maybe not for long, but then and there I can touch you, and you can hold me instead, for the first time in forever.

It's so cold, without you holding me.

 

 

**January 5th, 2010**

Hey.

You remember when you threw that tantrum?

Yeah. That one. The one when you had bad rashes all up and down your side, and it hurt so bad, and I kept trying to help you but _goddamn_ if you'd let me baby you for once.

Well, I threw mine a few days ago. I sort of know how you felt then, and it sucked. Well, my heart was hurting bad - it was ripping at the seams you had sewn for me out of thread the same color as your eyes, and I was in that deep place, somewhere between Hell and more Hell, breathing fire from my burning throat thanks to the alcohol and seeing stars. The same stars from the hood of my truck.

When Erwin showed up after I texted him ten different things from ten different points in my head, he was met with a glass shattering against the wall, nearly inches from where his skull was. I screamed at him to _fucking leave me alone, you shouldn't have driven here_ , but he sighed and gripped my arms while I tried to pummel his blonde American Dad ass into the ground, and got no where at all.

When I had given up, he made me tea and poured all my alcohol out. I had almost gone off again then and there, but fell back into my depressive state before I could try. What use was alcohol, anyways? I needed you, Eren. Not any drink. Fuck, I want to drink you up, Eren, so where the Hell are you?

Erwin took care of through out my suffering that night, and suggested I go to a hospital. You know, like one of those facility mental places for suicidal people and drug addicts. I disagreed vehemently, but finally gave in when he said to me, _Eren would want you to take care of yourself_. He was right, so all I could do was agree. I packed the next day, and set off for healing.

 

 

**March 30th 2010**

Happy birthday, little shit. Been a while since I bothered to tell you. I was thinking about you all day. I love you.

 

 

**June 27th 2010**

The hospital wasn't that bad, really. Kind of draining - it was meant to be draining, to get rid of the energy that would go towards thinking about you. Well, they got suckered, because why the hell would I be thinking of anyone but my favorite brat? Went to refresh the flowers on your grave, and I know how much you like tulips, so I gave you plenty. You happy, craplet? You better fucking be, those things are expensive.

If you were still alive, I would have brought you chocolate. You've always been a sucker for sweets - especially chocolate. Yeah, I'm talking about that time - how can't I? You looked good, even for a brat.

Anyways, I'm here to tell you I'm going to keep fighting. Just for you, Eren, I'll grow old, okay? I'll do everything you couldn't. Maybe I can adopt a kid, you know, raise them on my own? Definitely not now - I'm still nowhere near stable enough for that. But I definitely want a little kid. I'm so old, Eren. You would be 25 this year. You would have raised that child like your own, wouldn't you have?

You'd probably over feed it like an idiot. Probably sneak them candy or shit while I'm not looking.

I'm going to fight. I love you, but right now, I want to do what you would have wanted me to.

 

 

**November 3rd, 2010**

I still think about you a lot. What's wrong with me?

 

 

**February 16th, 2011**

Guess who has a 3 year old son?

Haha. Yeah, me. I don't think I ever want to remarry though - because you're my husband, Eren. Whether you like it or not, this wedding ring will stay on my finger until I die, and someone will have to pry it from me.

Anyways, the boy. He's 6, and he looks... a lot like you. Yes, that played a roll in me adopting him. He has bright, freakishly green eyes, and the same brunet hair. Even his skin is as tanned as yours, and for some reason I find myself happy that I can take care of someone. It takes my mind away from your death, and it's helping me to fight more.

He doesn't know English very well because of how he was raised. He was severely neglected. He never heard or had very much human interaction, and thus never learned to speak properly. I'm helping him now, but it's a pain in the ass whether I'd like to admit it or not - hopefully, with time, he'll stop calling me Weevi or calling you Ee-rin.

I mentioned you to him, and when I did, he tilted his head and rested it against my shoulder, as if comforting me. That was the first time I became close to a kid, and it wasn't that bad.

Eren, do you think I'll be a good father?


	3. Sparklers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi has begun to accept and live - his son, Tyler, is there through it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha I listened to The scientist by Coldplay in the beginning and when it became present I listened to Same Love by Macklemore. It really makes it much nicer to read. Really suggest it!
> 
> Other than that, I didn't proofread, so please tell me if I wrote something that sounded retarded please God. Imagine Tyler as a small 7 year old Eren. Hehe.

**March 9th, 2006**

After we got married, you were no longer tired, but instead purely elated - every smile was _more_ , every word from you was like a new beginning. In those moments I truly believed everything would be fine, and my beautiful Eren would be fine - maybe this was just a hiccup, and the rashes would go away entirely.

 I hoped that the next morning I would bring you home and I'd maybe get to hold you, my perfect husband, but I didn't know at the time that instead I would see a body bag the next morning and all my hopes and dreams follow right behind. But for now, I want to remember our last night together, as well as our first as husbands.

Your hands were cold in the hospital room after your parents and friends had left, so I took my time warming them. You gave me cheeky smiles, calling me a cliche old man, and I couldn't help but think, _I'm your cliche old man, Eren_.

We got married, you in your pure medical gown and me in my black t-shirt, old jeans. It's funny because you kept telling me I looked like a perfect groom. I wasn't dressed the part at the time.

The whole town was pretty much there, to be honest - the doctors brought cake that you couldn't eat, and the nurses were the choir, no matter how off key and bad they were, and then your mom was crying and saying _there goes my baby_ over and over, being like normal moms are.

Your sister cried too. Isn't that your adopted sister? She missed you too, Eren, and sometimes she calls just to cry about you with me, because the both of us were hit the worst. We both relied on you, no matter how unhealthy that sounded, and your comfort was our vices. I guess you could say it's an Ackerman gene to love green eyed boys with illnesses and hope.

Our last night together, Mikasa had said her goodbyes, and kissed your forehead before she left. She knew, in a way, that you may not make it. I was the one who held false hope. I was the one that fell first.

We had laid in the bed together, Eren, tangled in the same wires. It reminded me of when we had first came to terms with your illness together - you know, when you didn't talk to me for two weeks, and I hunted your sorry ass down? That time.

Your fingers kept shifting to my face, touching the small things like the bridge of my nose or lightly pressing the pads against my eyelids until I opened them and scowled playfully at you. Once or twice, I had my hands fall on the curve of your sides, squeezing the stiff medical gown, wishing it wasn't there and we were at home on our wedding night, doing what newlyweds do at thirty minutes before midnight. You would give me this look, and waggle your finger at me. _We can be together when I'm okay again, right Levi?_

Then, I assumed you would live. I had hoped, desperately, that I wasn't wrong for being married to you then. I wouldn't have changed the day at all, even if I had known you would die. I wanted your very last day to be good, even if I didn't know that it would be your last day at the moment.

Your emerald eyes stayed locked with mine, and there was an oddly recessive property to them - like you were withholding information. Not too long after we would know that you had neglected to tell anyone that you were coughing blood that morning, but didn't say anything, not wanting to stop the marriage no matter how mediocre it would be.

You're an odd person, you know? Why didn't you say anything?

You were so pale. I woke up beside you, and you wouldn't _move_ , you wouldn't speak to me. I don't cry often, Eren - maybe when I was a kid, but then and there, the tears were everywhere - on your lifeless face, on your hands, your eyelids. I screamed at you, shook you, and you didn't move - you wouldn't _move_ , Eren.

I was screaming, but there was no sound to me, not even the code blue alarms or the dead shrill noise the heart monitor made. It was just you, me, and my loss. It was all just static in my head when the doctor and nurses were suddenly gripping my arms, trying to pull me away because it wouldn't be long before I was hurting myself or your body.

I don't like calling it _your body_ , Eren. You weren't just a body to me. You were my Eren. I left a trail of tears, and along with it, pieces of myself. I left the memories, but not the pain.

Even now, it hurts. It hurts so bad.

 

 

**April 24th, 2011**

You're probably wondering how our little baby boy is right?

He's okay - he has a heart like yours, and it's painful but at the same time refreshing, a new beginning for me.

He found a dog. _Fuck_ , the brat found a goddamn dog, and you know what? I wanted that goddamn dog too.

We were just walking, me the only one talking because he hasn't opened his mouth very often anyways, when he suddenly squeezed my hand and began jumping up and down, making these odd breathy sounds, flinging a finger at a shitty mutt, a foot deep in a neighbor's trash.

I almost laughed, because that dog got into even more shit than you could get in, Eren.

The kid expected me to say no, really. I just looked at the animal, and after much debate released his hand, waltzed over to the smaller animal and scooped it up in all it's disgusting trashy _glory_. The kid began to squeal. Well, it couldn't be a squeal, because there wasn't any sound.

We named it Titan, because no matter how small the little shit is, it has a heart bigger than a damn mountain, even without the attitude. With it, it's infinite. We brought it home. Tyler - I finally got a name out of his social worker - was the first one to volunteer to bathe him.

Well, we decided we'd do it together, and filled a pan up in the back yard. To be honest, I hadn't felt that kind of joy in so long. Tyler sort of grew to how clean I was. I learned from his social worker that the kid had been dirty constantly, underneath grime on a day to day basis due to his parents not wanting to waste the money or time. I have to force bathe the little shit sometimes, but now he's starting to do it on his own after I bring him from school.

The dog got both of us wet, trying to hop out of the pan. By the time we were done, there wasn't any use, so I sprayed Tyler. He has your laugh, Eren, and when I heard it, I think I broke some, and a few more of those memories I'd left in the halls of that hospital tugged at my heart.

I had to give both of them a bath over again, and scrub myself afterward too.

 

 

**July 1st 2011**

The pain I had felt before when I thought of you is starting to fade.

It's becoming a dull ache in the pit of my stomach, and I can live on my own without fear of my next panic attack, or when I'd drown myself in more alcohol.

Tyler is always there, too, a smaller version of you. Last week, he gave me a full sentence. You want to know what it was? _Dad, you're an old fart._

Well, he isn't wrong. I was a little shocked at first, but then, there at the dinner table I couldn't help but snort and crack a small smile, likely unseen by the human eye. Maybe not even microscopes.

Tyler is there when I'm on an edge. He knows, for a 7 year old, when I'm in pain. I begin to shake, and I choke on words. Tyler knows me as stiff and unrelenting, but in those moments all he does is rest his head against my arm, and says only one word over and over again. _Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay._

It becomes a chant, and it warms my heart. I used to do stupid things like that to you, tell you it's okay over and over again. You would calm down and reach out to lightly smack me, your snotty and teary face breaking a sickened smile. Even then you were my beautiful Eren.

I don't need a therapist anymore, and it's probably thanks to Tyler. He's my son - and it's starting to be my pillar. Used to, it was _Eren can't see you like this_. Now, it's _Tyler can't hear Dad cry_. I hated when my mom cried.

You remember Kuchel? We went to her funeral together, and you said I look like her. I was a rape kid, too, so that made me thankful. You didn't know how much you saying that meant to me - I didn't look anything like my biological father. Who wasn't even a father - just a 40-odd something man who cornered my mom.

Today, since it's July, we bought sparklers. He likes Black Cats because they're loud, I hate them because they're loud.

Remember our first July together? You pretended to shit out one of those crappy little poppers. I still hate you for that.

He has a problem writing, and I helped him write words with the light of the sparkler. His smile was so big, almost exactly like yours save for the missing tooth, and the sparkler's light reminded me of that Coldplay concert.

He wrote "Dad", then "Tyler", and finally, when I thought the sparkler was making him lose interest, he wrote your name. I didn't think he knew how to spell it.

I cried, and Tyler tugged at my shirt, and when I knelt down beside him he wrapped his arms around my neck and said _okay_ in a steady chant again. In my tears, I smiled, and laughed.

 

_I'm fighting, Eren._


	4. Reverse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi forgot. It hurts more than it should.

Summer is always Eren's favorite time of year. I don't really get it; who the Hell would enjoy being constantly slicked with sweat and fucking bugs crawling everywhere? Definitely not sane people. But every year, every July, he brings me out here. Today hasn't been any different - we drink on the driveway and burn sparklers, put them out in the grass and he threatens to shoot a black cat up my ass if I don't stop calling him little shit. I guess he's learning well, huh? I watched him write his name with a bright green sparkler, curling every little edge like the artsy fuck he's always been. He doesn't write my name as fancy, and I frown at him.

Summer is nice, even if I say I don't like it. My favorite season is Winter - I like the frost every morning, the smell. It feels like the planet is starting over, going into it's shell to come out even better next season. It feels like a time of growth. Eren thinks it's funny how deeply I think into it. He says he just likes the Summer because it's warm and he can't stand feeling numb constantly.

When we're both too tired to burn any more sparklers and finish waking up the entire neighborhood, we sit on the hood of his dad's car. We'd spent the day at his family's house, and to be honest his mother and I click. She's a nice woman - has the same pleasant charm as Eren, but can turn into a nightmare when you accidentally spill your Pepsi across the table because a certain brunet shitlet starts touching your thigh. Fucking brat.

His family is beautiful and nearly harmonic. My family was Hell.

I don't realize Eren is still awake until he starts sighing over and over. I almost lean over and smack him, lightly mind you, but then he rolls over on the hood, smiling that brilliant smile of his.

"Kind of like our first kiss, huh?"

I scowl at him. He ruined the silence. "You remember it?" I ask, mildly curious. I do, of course, but I wouldn't admit it. I'd like to remain the nonchalant boyfriend.

He raises a brow, giving me that _look_ , the one only I should have permission to give. His smirk is like a bad bootleg of mine. This time I do smack him - with the back of my hand, weakly.

"And you don't?"

The question throws me off guard. I choke a little, and it turns into a fake laugh. I don't usually laugh - people who know me less than Eren assume I'd chose death over any kind of humor.

"No."

"You're an ass, Levi," he pouts, but moves closer regardless, pressing that stupid bunny nose of his in my arm. He sniffles. "And you smell like dandelions,"

"How many asses have you sniffed before me?"

"Millions!" He tilts his face up from my arm, his lips tight in a withheld grin. He's trying to be serious but he's very bad at it.

"That's gay, Eren,"

I watch confusion cross his features, and then a sweet moment of realization, like the moment a child comes to understand some amazing math problem. What? Did he finally realize the answer has been two the entire time? Like it's never changed.

"But I am gay."

"That makes two of us, dipshit." And then, we fall into that comfortable silence. Most people would hate it - it feels awkward, to them, but with Eren it's always so serene. I don't watch him unless he's looking at the stars. But again, he breaks the thin pane of silence between us.

"Hey, Levi?" I pause. I know better than to stay playful when he starts with those two words. He never uses my name before he asks a stupid question. I raise a thin brow at him. The glass beneath our heads makes his eyes light up in the reflection, revealing the depthless beauty of them with just a single glance. My breath always catches when I find Eren in such flattering light.

"When I die, please don't forget me."  
His words strike me, whether I like it or not, directly into my already fragile heart. It wasn't so breakable before I met him.

And this time, when I turn to look at him, his face is distorted, his eyes a millions shades of green. What color were they? Were they ever really green? I watch you disappear, the skies are no longer filled with the stars you made for me.

I'm forgetting you, Eren.

 

**September 9th, 2011**

Am I allowed to? I promised you, didn't I?

I know, Eren. I know I should have forgotten, but how can I? Every night, every morning, every day of my life was just you. If I forgot you, wouldn't I have to start over?

That doesn't matter though, does it. Right now Tyler does, and I'm being selfish, wishing you were back. It makes me guilty, realizing I would trade that innocent, sweet boy for you, _my_ Eren.

But I'll fight anyways. I'll learn to build my own stars with the remnants of what you left for me. I'll make them in your design, use the silk of your laugh and the bones of your pain. I won't forget you, but I can mask you. I don't even remember what your laugh sounds like anymore.

Tyler says he wants to meet you. I told him you would want to meet him too. He's learning to read faster, and now I'm having to hide away these journals I have for you. On the front of this one, I drew your eyes, but they don't feel real. They don't look like _your_ eyes, Eren, and I wish they did. I don't think even crayola has the right shade.

Tyler is also dealing with a lot of asswipes at school - he tells me now, with his entire voice untouched by stuttering, that these kids mostly do it because of his "drunkard gay father". I do drink, but not nearly as much as I once did. I don't get drunk, either. I used to.

And the gay thing? Does it really matter that I loved a man?

It does. You were that man, Eren. Or boy. Did you ever really grow up?

I never worried about being "gay" necessarily. You didn't either - no one bothered us over it. But these little fucking shit stains at Tyler's school are saying I fuck boys all the time. I had to sit and hear my _son_ ask me what gay sex feels like.

I'm terrified for him. I won't admit it out loud, nor have I shown it. I marched to the school and demanded that my kid be taken out of all those kid's classes, put in new ones. They did it, but I'm not sure if Tyler is entirely away from them. I don't want Tyler to be confused like that, not yet. He's too young to think about it, and those disgusting third grade fuckers aren't helping at all.

I'll make sure. I'll know. When he turns 9, I will do everything I can to give him a good image of people like us, people who love no matter what. But for now, he needs to stay away from those brats.

 

October 20th

I think Tyler is fine for now. He hasn't looked at me odd, a result of the kids claiming I did certain things, or asked me anything he shouldn't know already. This makes me happy, if just a little. I haven't had any dreams about you, or gone numb. I haven't felt depression as deeply lately, likely because of the medicine I'm on, and haven't had one of my moments where Tyler has to lean against me and whisper his special "okay" chant.

Everything is okay. Last week, I brought Tyler to Disneyland. His favorite ride was yours too - that obscenely hideous Tower of Terror. He screamed, but not nearly as loud as the lady behind us. He wondered why I didn't scream. I've felt true fear when you stopped breathing. But all I said was "I'm not easy to scare."

You don't know how many times the kid has popped out of hallways to try and make me jump since then.

I sleep more. Maybe more than I should, but used to I barely slept an hour. I realize this is because I'm more likely to hold you again when I'm not awake.

Did I tell you how old I am? I'm fucking old, Eren. I'm 41 now. People can't tell, but when I wake up in the morning I have to stretch out or I'll feel sideways the whole day. You used to tease me for being old, but guess what? You're damn near 30 now. You're old too. And probably filled with worms, but hey, they have some good fucking taste.

Speaking of your dead body, Eren, I visit your grave once a month. Just to be sure. Not sure what of, but the closer I am to you the better I feel. Partly why I bought this house, pretty close to the cemetery. Creepy right? It was a nice house too. Would have bought it if you weren't dead, too.

I hate calling you dead.

 

**January 29th, 2012**

I wish I wouldn't fluctuate so quickly between happy and sad. One moment I can touch the sky, the stars we built together with your materials and my hands, the next I'm underground, 6 feet underneath just like you are. Sadly, I can never be in-between, which means I can never escape you.

I don't want to escape you, and maybe that's the problem. I don't believe in prescriptions, so I down two pills instead of one. It brings more happiness, more ability for when Tyler comes home. He's almost 8. When did I loose it again? Why can't I stay on my ladder? Because you built that, too.

I feel like I'm made of glass. All it takes is a hammer, a fist, anything. You can break my kind of glass with anything. Hell, you can shatter me with words now. A name. Your name.

Three pills.

I really wish I wasn't tired all the time, too. When did I even pick myself up? Every time I do, I fall the next morning, and have to do it again, all with the help of the crutch you built me, too. I'm starting to sleep less again, eat less, drift from Tyler. I love my kid, but he looks too much like you must have. Does he even look like you? I _forgot_ , and I'm sorry. I broke my promises.

Four. I'm starting to get dizzy. Every paragraph now, to you, is just another pill that won't work.

Five. I feel like air now, the glass is broke and I'm already another 6 feet under. I can't go back up. I can't touch the stars anymore.

Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Elev

 


	5. Beginning and End

The room is cold. I hate the cold. The heart monitor is a constant reminder that _I'm alive,_ still breathing like I always was. No matter how hard it was before.

My body hurts, and the wires feel like metal and not plastic, made to bar me beneath them so I can no longer reach out to him. Who was he, anyways?

One by one, puzzle pieces slip apart. There isn't a picture anymore. How long have I been asleep?

The black behind my eyelids have become tiring and morose - the least I could do is open my eyes. Maybe he'll still be there.

All I see is a white tile ceiling - the world is tilting sideways, falling like my spirits. What if he's already gone?

_"Eren?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh!!! Ahahaha. Yeah I'm sorry for the emotional rollercoaster. It's actually up to you if this is a good or bad ending! It all depends on who you believe called "Eren". Is this Eren's POV, and was all of it just his nightmare? Or did Levi truly overdose and is calling for someone who was always dead? 
> 
> I owe my thanks to Shadow_of_Evenstar for helping me when I got stuck. <3 You're a lifesaver. Or death maker. Either one is cool.
> 
> Thank you for reading!!<3


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